Come Home To Me
by Resacon1990
Summary: Steve wanted Tony, Tony didn't want Steve. Or did he? (Major Iron Man 3 spoilers. Like Major. Oh my.)


**So I've wondered why there was literally no Iron Man 3 fics for the past two weeks. And I realised that it only just literally came out over in America. It's been out since April 15th here in New Zealand, so I thought I might as well write some!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Six months, it took six months for Tony to return back to California after the New York attack.

Steve wondered why a lot, not believing the man when he said he was staying to help with the clean up. Tony's idea of helping went as far as sitting on the sidelines and all but ordering the others about the place, sometimes pulling on the suit for heavy construction jobs, but mostly not raising more than a loosely waved hand in some direction.

It took only three months worth of endless working days, ones that worked every Avenger to the bitter _bitter _bone, before all construction was finished and New York was looking brand new again, if not newer than it'd ever been.

The captain hadn't understood why Tony stuck around much longer after that. His company's main headquarters was in California, Happy and _Pepper _were in California, his home was over there, _everything _was there. Yet he still hung around the tower with the rest of them.

He finally got it when he realised that Tony was taking time to relax with the others, get to know them as more than the subjects he'd read about in files. Steve watched in fascination as Tony would bond over pop-tarts and small fluffy animals with Thor, weapons and deadly pranks with Clint, endless bouts of science with Bruce. Hell, he'd even sit down and watch chick-flicks with an unimpressed Natasha, fake sobbing overly loud so as draw attention to himself when the woman would be crying herself.

And Steve? It took a while but after realising that Steve actually had no idea about _anything _in this new time Tony became glued to his side. They bonded over old and new movies, museums and conventions, experimenting new coffees at cafes, trying different foods from around the world. Steve taught Tony to bake, making batches after batches of cakes and cookies that were inhaled by the team, and in return Tony educated Steve on mechanics so Steve could understand his bike better. They fought side by side, trained together enough that they each learned the others body well enough to work together effortlessly in battle. They laughed and played and acted like children half the time and all the rest of the team watched with blinding smiles as they all slowly began to call the tower they lived in _home_.

Their new _home_. Something they'd all been missing.

…

It'd all come crashing down at the six month mark when Steve went too far.

It was anti-climatic really. All the team had been giving Steve little nudges, murmuring innuendoes and dodgy puns when they walked past, wolf-whistling when Tony and Steve were together, joking and jesting and giving them the nicknames of "Mum" and "Dad", all of it for weeks until Steve let it go to his head. He'd been sitting in the lounge with Tony again, both curled up on the couch watching some movie or rather that Tony loved and Steve hated, when Steve had just reached up and dragged the other into what he hoped was a mind-boggling kiss.

Tony was gone by morning.

Steve was shattered.

The crew tried to make it up to him, including him in literally everything they did. He went with it, not wanting to appear pathetic, but despite it all it still stung when he'd stand outside Bruce's lab on the way to see him and hear Tony laughing as they'd talk on the computer or whatever, or it made him wince when Thor would rip open a new package every two or three days containing something fluffy or sweet, or Natasha would receive new chick-flicks, or Clint would gleefully be testing out new arrows or _whatever _while talking to Tony.

He never talked to Steve.

And after a while he let it go, pushing aside the dull ache in his heart and moving on. There were hardly any other major catastrophes in New York, none that needed the full power of the Avengers, so Tony stayed in California, Thor departed for Asgard promising he'd contact them weekly, Bruce stayed shut in his lab and only ventured out sometimes, Clint and Natasha continued their work for SHEILD, and Steve?

He didn't really know what he did.

…

It was another few months later when he got the news. He'd been sitting in his regular coffee shop sketching the vase of flowers on the table, his lukewarm coffee hardly touched as he added the minute details to the sketch. He'd hardly drawn after Tony had left, all the energy for it leaving with him. He'd tried deny that it was because _Tony _was his muse and he used to always draw for him, if not _him_, but since he'd gone…

He didn't like thinking dark thoughts, and had forcibly pushed them from his head when he overheard two teenagers at the next table.

"_Killed? Really?_"

"_Yeah! His bodyguard's in hospital, his girlfriend's gone miss and he managed to get himself offed!_"

"_All because the Mandarin didn't wanna face him face to face?_"

"_Exactly, coward. Stark could've taken him, if the guy hadn't blown him to bits first_."

Steve had frozen, eyes widening as he turned slowly to look at the kids. They were leaving though, too quick for him to grab them and demand them to explain, so he settled instead for grabbing the newspaper resting on their table and dragging it towards him, eyes running over the main headline.

_TONY STARK, DEAD AND GONE_.

He didn't even read the rest before he was out of the shop.

…

"Did you know about this?" he cried as soon as he stepped into the tower, glowering at the trio of Avengers standing at the kitchen counter. They all turned to him, frowns on their faces before they slipped off and Clint paled at seeing the newspaper.

"Steve-" he started before he was quickly cut off by Bruce shaking his head and stepping forward.

"We didn't know how to tell-"

"It doesn't matter how!" Steve all but bellowed, his throat closing up as he saw the despair on their faces. It wasn't a joke. It wasn't a lie. There was no more Tony. "You should've told me! I shouldn't… I shouldn't have found out through a _newspaper_!"

"Steve please-"

But he just shook his head wildly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but the sudden feeling of large hands covering his shoulders followed by Thor's deep "_Steven_" made him choke and stumble, a sob hitching in his throat.

"He… he _can't _be…" he whispered before suddenly his legs gave out and he was swarmed by the others, "you're lying."

No one answered him.

…

He didn't talk to anyone for days. He holed up in the library of the tower instead, barring the door and curling up in the far corner behind the old wooden bookshelves. It was the room Steve loved the most, the one he'd been so proud of Tony for constructing. While the rest of the tower was modern and new, this room always felt like _home _to Steve, the old wooden shelves and wooden floorboards, the dim lighting, the cosy closeness. It was like stepping into an olden style library from centuries before and Steve _loved _it.

It'd been his and Tony's favourite spot.

They'd come here late at night, nursing hot chocolates and spilling secrets of the world. They'd come here during the day seeking reprieves from the outside world. They'd come here in the mornings to watch the sunrise from the large window that gave the perfect view.

Each time they did come up though, Steve would revel in Tony's presence. He would close his eyes and smile as Tony's voice would wash over him, babbling equations and mechanics he barely understood. He would watch as Tony would stand and wave his arms around as he got more and more animated. He would love the way Tony wouldn't look away until he was finished listening to Steve, would absorb it all and never rush him. He would look at the arc reactor, watching as it pushed its bright colour through Tony's shirts and would light up the dark room at night. He would take in everything he could get of Tony in those times.

And Steve just couldn't bare to be away from those memories, choosing instead to curl in the corner and shake. With sobs or cold or anger or _grief_, he never knew. They were the same to him.

The others had tried coming in, sneaking in through the vents and calling for JARVIS to bypass locks, Thor had even tried to break down the door. But each time they'd see him, see the emotionless face so tired and worn looking sightlessly at the ground, and they'd quietly leave again.

It took Steve an afternoon to realise he had loved Tony.

It took him ten minutes more to lose his grip on reality.

…

It was the fourth day that had the door flying open and Natasha running in, looking flustered and bright, Thor right behind her with a grin that could split the world.

Steve had wanted to punch it off.

"He's alive."

He froze at those words, and had shakily accepted the phone shoved into his hands, blinking few times before a stuttered "hello?" slipped from his lips.

"C-Captain A-America? My n-name is H-Harley," and Steve had wanted to attack Natasha this time. She knew he didn't want to talk to fans or children or _anything _right now. He wanted Tony. "S-Sir?"

"Harley?" he interrupted, his voice sounding hoarse and cracked and he wasn't the only one wincing at the rawness there. "I… I'm sorry but-"

"He's alive!" Harley was interrupting him this time and Steve fell silent, eyes widening as he looked up at Natasha. "He's alive, Captain! He was here only two days ago and… and he wanted me to call you, to tell you he was alive and that you shouldn't worry. He… he's got some bad guys to fight and then he said something about coming home! He wanted me to say that!"

The phone was taken off him as Steve began hyper-ventilating, shock that such a thing could occur to him taking over his body, but Thor was there talking to the kid excitedly and Natasha was in front of him, cupping his cheeks and forcing their eyes to meet.

"He's alive," she whispered smiling at him and pressing kisses to his cheeks before pressing their foreheads together, "Steve, he's _alive_."

…

Pepper arrived first, looking shaken but perfectly put together. She moved through the tower with a feeling of authority, pausing to say hello to Bruce and chatting with Natasha. It didn't take her long to reach the gym though were Steve was pouring his thoughts into his fists, pounding those into the leather punching bag in front of him.

"Steve?"

He faltered hearing her voice, his hand landing at an odd angle and making his hiss with the spark of pain. After pulling back and looking down at the red skin for a moment, he took a deep breath and turned to the woman, offering a small smile.

She returned it before suddenly swooping forward and hugging him tightly.

"He'll be back soon," she whispered in his ear, kissing his cheek lightly before pulling away, a smile on her face and tears filling her eyes. "Can you promise me something?"

Steve didn't know what he could promise her that would mean… anything really. Especially not in regards to Tony. But he solemnly nodded his head and waited patiently for her request.

"Look after him for me, please?"

He didn't even think of the oddity of the question before he gave a jerky nod and polite "of course".

…

When Tony did arrive, Steve wasn't surprised when he went straight to Bruce. He watched over a video feed JARVIS sent him as the two reunited, hugging brutally hard and Bruce already halfway through his lecture on driving them all insane, and worrying them all to within an inch of their lives. He'd cut the feed when the Doctor had started to cry quietly, feeling to intrusive. He'd caught glimpses of Natasha hitting him over the head before giving him a tight hug and some harsh words, Clint clapping him on the back and already demanding more arrows, Thor sobbing uncontrollably as he dragged Tony into a giant bear hug.

He'd smiled every time he'd watched one of the reuinions, trying to ignore the craving in him for Tony to come to him.

But it wasn't until late evening when Tony finally did, and Steve was quietly sitting in the lounge, the movie Steve hated yet Tony loved already to play, hot chocolates sitting on the table waiting.

There were no words as Tony silently sat down beside him, offering him a small smile before asking JARVIS to start the movie.

Steve didn't ask about the missing arc reactor. He didn't ask about Pepper's weird request. He didn't ask what had happened in California. He didn't ask why Dummy and Butterfingers were nothing but charcoaled messes in his workshop. He didn't ask why Tony seemed more relaxed yet more tense at the same time.

He just sat there, watching the movie quietly, even if he hated it. And if Tony's fingers slipped into his, or his head dropped on his shoulder, or their two blankets turned to one during it, or soft lips pressed against his for just a _brief_ moment, Steve didn't say a word.

Because Tony was _home_.

* * *

**I always wondered what Steve's reaction to Tony's "death" would be, and so I wrote it! I'm sorry if it's terrible, I have had major writers block for aaageees. So I haven't actually finished any work and any that has been started is utter crap. Ugh.**

**Anyway. Hope you enjoyed it!**


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